


Technoblade Does the Right Thing and Doesn’t Ride the Bomb to Hell

by orphan_account



Series: Dividing By Zero Like A Wrecking Crew [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ALL OF IT, Crack Treated Seriously, Death is not happy with this turn of events, Fundy wants your money, Gen, Minecraft IRL, Techno does not like Weet-Bix, gamerboy80 is having the time of his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (Sort of prequel to ‘How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Accept My Fate’, the bestselling crack fic no one asked for, with an even longer title!)Techno can’t help but snicker at that. “Which magazine is that?”“Oh. It’s called Cranes Today. It’s about cranes.”“No, it’s about portable restroom operation,” he says, voice dripping with barely-contained sarcasm. “All the PRO’s talk about that stuff.”“No, it’s about cranes,” Death corrects. “Weren’t you the Literature major?”“I’m actually the English major,” Techno mutters. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, man.”
Series: Dividing By Zero Like A Wrecking Crew [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857805
Comments: 7
Kudos: 152





	Technoblade Does the Right Thing and Doesn’t Ride the Bomb to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I said I’d do another one of these. I’m going back to normal stories after this, I swear. 
> 
> Eh, who am I kidding. I’m going to do more of these at some point.
> 
> Nobody is gonna see this because of the tags lol. That’s probably a good thing. On the off-chance that you’re here, buckle up for more trippy shit. Thanks for reading on.

Techno’s not one for optimism, but he knows when someone’s efforts are futile against him. He knows when he’s about to win. 

This, however, was one of those situations where he thinks that even as he wins, something will glitch out and he’ll end up losing anyway. There was nothing that he could be given that couldn’t be taken away, Techno figured, and no power in the universe was ever going to give him something that kept him happy for long. It would just be ripped away, like everything else in his life.

His fingers gripped the ledge with something akin to determination, but much more hollowed out. It was the same kind of determination that kept you watching pointless videos at three am, all the way to five. You’re pushed to continue, but when someone asks you why, you have to think about it.

Technoblade wasn’t a fan of life. But he did want to to keep living. 

_But hey author,_ you might say, both amused and confused about where this could go, _why are we having epiphanies about the meaning of life and waxing eloquent about the epistemology of it?_

Well, to put it simply, he’s going to die soon. That’s obvious enough.

_But_ , you might press on, more curious than before because of the vagueness of that answer, _where exactly is Technoblade?_

That, the reader, is a question that even we don’t know the answer to. Someone left the script of this story on a very specific rock shaped like a giant Beluga whale in hell, where GeorgeNotFound and the Devil would soon trade words of dissent, so we will never know.

_But_ , you ask, bored of asking questions, _why is the script on a very specific rock shaped like a Beluga whale in hell? And what were we doing in hell before the events of the previous story even happened?_

Huh. That’s a good question. The author’s sure it has something to do with the anatomy of a Beluga whale, but since he’s a useless high school student who hasn’t ever taken a biology class, he has no clue. 

Let’s just move on ahead.

Hanging off the side of a building for his not-so-dear life has never been so meme-worthy, thinks Technoblade, who has surprisingly never hung off the edge of a building for his not-so-dear-life prior to this incident. 

Then again, bedwars matches probably counted, since he does remember falling off the edge of a building or two on one of the maps, lucky enough to have clutched it by placing a block under his feet, only a meter or two away from his imminent death. That was a usual thing in bedwars matches.

This happened to be real life however, and while Techno has a track record of clutches in-game, real life was different. 

Fine, we’ll be honest. It really wasn’t. Even Death was annoyed.

Sure enough, the entity appeared behind a metallic security barrage (which did its job about as well as a speck of dirt at a water refinement plant), scythe in hand like it was going to turn out differently this time. His black cloak fluttered in the non-existent wind, his face hidden under a deep layer of shadow.

Death usually appeared to a person as someone who they aspired to be, so it would be theoretically easier to sway them over to the afterlife. But to Techno, he appeared as his original form - a skeleton with glowing eye sockets, a stupidly sharp scythe and a penchant for forgetting things so quickly it made Dory from Finding Nemo seem borderline normal.

Techno didn’t aspire to be anyone. Or that could just be the fact that he’d had one too many run-ins with the literal personification of death. We will never know.

“And we meet again, Tango Tek,” Death says, in his characteristic asshole tone. “This is probably the norm for you now.”

Techno only grunts in response. He was too busy squinting at the billboard above the building to quip at how the literal personification of death had royally messed up his name.

“It’s an ad for Weet-Bix,” he spits, voice laced with annoyance and amusement all at once. 

Death’s face is still shaded, but there’s something in the way he folds his arms which gave Techno the impression that he was confused about what he’d heard. “What?”

“It’s a Weet-Bix ad. On the building I’m about to heroically plummet to my death from.”

“Yeah, so?” Death scowls.

“I don’t like Weet-Bix,” Techno mutters, attempting to pull himself up slightly. It doesn’t work. Death looks up, and all he can see is a skull with red pinpricks of light for eyes in the eye-sockets. 

“Sucks to be you,” Death says. “Do you want a relocation?”

“Yes, please.”

“Too bad, the to-be-dead don’t get to decide where they die.” The entity sits back against the barrage, and pulls out a colorful magazine from the depths of his black cloak. “Now, just hurry up and die already. I’m going to sit here and read this human magazine I got from this human place called ‘Tex-as’.” He drags out the ‘a’ like the one in the word ‘arse’.

Techno can’t help but snicker at that. “Which magazine is that?”

“Oh. It’s called Cranes Today. It’s about cranes.”

“No, it’s about portable restroom operation,” he says, voice dripping with barely-contained sarcasm.

“No, it’s about cranes,” Death corrects. “Weren’t you the Literature major?”

“I’m actually the English major,” Techno mutters. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, man.”

Death rolls his crimson eye-lights, which look ominous under his hood. “English, Literature - same thing.”

“As an English major, I’m qualified to tell you that they aren’t the same thing,” he drones on, face as blank as ever. “They’re both separate courses, with their own majors and topics they cover-“

“I didn’t come here to look at a virtual human university pamphlet,” Death grumbled. “Just let me reap your soul, and we can go our separate ways. I have, you know, actual duties.”

“You’re the guy readin’ the magazine,” Techno pointed out. “I’m just vibin’. Didn’t ask you to c’mere.”

“No one asks Death to take them, unless they’re committing suicide. I just come.” Death shrugs. “And you aren’t an exception, Tactical Nuke. So, you gonna die now?”

“How’d you get Tactical Nuke from Technoblade?” And he’s baffled by that, he really is. “They don’t even have the same number of syllables.”

“What are you talking about, Triple-Aid Gum?”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Techno looks at the Weet-Bix ad with a lot more interest than someone who apparently hated the brand, and tries to adjust his position without having his fingers slip since slipping would be bad for both him and this story.

“Oh, no problem!” And the entity is suddenly about as cheerful as an orphan on the Polar Express. He turns a page in his magazine in the most elegant way Techno has ever seen, skimming through them with about as much interest as he had staring at the billboard. 

Techno tries to concentrate on not dying instead. It seemed less painful.

  
  


  
  


So yes, that was Technoblade hanging off the edge of a building for his life. 

Moving onto the other guy who’s also this close to the deceased, we have gamerboy80, who somehow managed to block clutch from the top of a thousand-block tall pillar by breaking a block midair and then using said block to break his fall, leaving him at half a heart.

He looks down where his teammate fell, a smirk gracing his features.

“Battling the void is the most prestigious thing you can possibly do,” he decides. “It’s obviously a true indicator of your skill. Which is why I’m never going to fight it.”

gamerboy80 strolls into the nearest team base, looking for the shopkeeper as he chews on a gapple. “Yeah, I need a jump boost. Probably speed? And I have enough for invis too, so we should be good on cash.” The shopkeeper nods, handing him three glass vials as he slams down four emeralds on the counter. 

“Thanks,” he offers, chugging down the glimmering green potion as he traverses the rough terrain that is bedwars bridging with ease, jumping over the cracks and crevasses. 

“Anyway, I think yellow team is still chillin’ at mid, because- yep, there they are.” He ducks behind a pillar, running a hand through his sweaty black and white hair. “Looks like they’re trying to get obby, which isn’t a good thing... I’ll just pop an invis, and we’ll head to their base.”

He has only opened the vial when the main alarm sounds out, and the map is practically thrown right into a bad Saw remake with flashy red lights and everything.

“What the frick?” gamerboy80 murmurs, and his mismatches eyes flick to the invisible walls as the loudspeaker is switched on. “Players, please evacuate the premises. I repeat, please evacuate-“

A crash sounds out in the distance, and he turns, wrinkling his nose at how something seemed to be burning. “Okay, evacuating. I’m going to drink the pots anyway, though, mainly out of curiosity,” and he pours the purple liquid and the pink one down his maw.

A second later, and gamerboy80 is nowhere to be seen.

  
  


  
  


“You’re still here,” Death says suddenly. It’s been an hour of silence, but Techno doesn’t trust himself to move a muscle without inevitably giving up eventually. 

But hey, when did he ever trust himself? And when did this story start sounding like a sitcom?

“That’s an amazing observation,” he drawls out instead. “What else have you noticed?”

Death frowns at the where the horizon probably is. “Oh, I think the Hypixel Battlegrounds are also on fire...”

That does actually grab his attention. “What!?”

Sure enough, there’s smoke rising in the distance, and even Techno can see traces of it from where he hangs. He only shrugs, as Death watches his reaction with pinpricks of light for eyes. “Eh. I did say this was gonna happen at some point, with all the fire charges they gave us in-game.”

“You’re not even surprised.”

“Nope.” Techno rests his head against the brick and concrete. “Not even close.”

Techno on the inside, however, was screaming, “ _where the fuck am I supposed to make money from now?_ ” but Techno’s brain reasoned with him. “ _Relax. You need to be alive to make money_ ,” and that seemed to calm everyone down.

Death closes his magazine and throws it over the edge, watching it fall with what could only be described as malicious intent. “They did have a section on portable restroom operation,” he hissed. “The bastards.”

“But no matter!” He announces, as Techno opens his mouth to make another comment about how people should listen to him more often. “You will die soon, and then we can all go home. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“‘Cept I’m gonna be too dead to do that.” 

“Minor complications exist in all forms of contingencies, Technoplane. I’d expected you’d know that of all people.”

“Oh yeah. Must’ve slipped my mind,” Techno responds dryly. “Congratulations on gettin’ half my name right, by the way. Never knew ya had it in ya.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

Techno’s at that point in life where he wonders if it’s worth it to live in a world where the personification of death kept forgetting people’s names. He wonders if that’s how the Queen of England had been alive for so long, because Death kept forgetting her name and went after some other girl named Elizabeth down the street.

Then again, he reminds himself, that name was the tenth most popular name given to baby girls in the US of A in 2007 and was still one of the twenty-five most famous ones ever. How did he know this, you may ask? Techno would say that going to the bottom of a Wikipedia page and scrolling up for about five hours straight would do that to you, but he’d be under-exaggeratin’.

Death coughs. “This is getting awkward. Can you die now?”

“I’m the one with asocial tendencies, not the one who spontaneously combusts because of it,” Techno says. “I’m startin’ to think you really have the wrong guy here.”

“And I’m starting to think you’re forgetting that you’re the one hanging off the edge of a building,” the entity responds. “I don’t make events happen, Johnny Cage. I only spectate them and grab the souls.”

“Is that what you did for Pompeii?”

“Yeah,” Death affirms. “Kinda hard to do, but we managed. There were so many people that we had to call our goons to take them up. There was so much congestion at God’s office, you have no idea. We had to chain up all of them and send them for judgement three at a time. But then we threw them all in hell anyway, because we didn’t have the space.”

“So why don’t you send down a goon to take care of me?” Techno stops himself from pointing out that if he was going to throw them all in hell anyway, there was no point of sending them for judgement in the first place. 

“Because you’ve been classified under code RED. And the only other guys under code RED were Sisyphus, Yoshie Shiratori and Sans the Skeleton, to name a few.” Death scowls. “You lot are the worst.”

Techno blinks. “You have a code red?”

“Not red. RED. It stands for ‘Really Enfernal Dicks.’”

“Infernal is actually spelt with an ‘i’-“ he begins, but is cut off with a scoff.

“This is why I never like to reap poets and the rest of you language majors. There’s always some philosophical literary metaphor or some autocorrection that comes out from this. It’s really annoying.”

Techno decides that he’s now going to become the very definition of a grammar Nazi. “Well, you know what they say,” he mutters, smirk forming on his lips. “When envoys are sent with compliments in their mouths, it is a sign that the enemy wishes for a truce. So we’ll both just go our ways now, yeah?”

Death frowns. “Who said that?”

“Sun Tzu, in The Art of War.”

“Oh. He’s another code RED!” he exclaims angrily. “Is this how you all think you’re so smart, escaping me all the time? You all are in leagues with each other, aren’t you? God will have to hear about this.”

“That’s if you remember to tell him.”

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

Techno only concentrates on holding on, as Death begins a huge rant about how hard they made it for him to do his job. 

  
  


The thing about Bedwars, gamerboy80 realizes, besides the fact that it gave him money, was how ridiculous the mechanics were. 

Fireball and TNT jumps, the potions, the PvP. The last one was very underwhelming, but he was fascinated by the other stuff when he’d first joined the leagues, straight out of high-school with no aim in life. 

So, no shit he was going to make a run for it when someone told him he could keep the potion effects outside the battlegrounds. He hears multiple honks, a giant traffic jam right outside the battlegrounds, and grins as he leaps over it all, visible to absolutely no one. Good times.

“Alright, that was something,” he murmurs, looking around the city as he sped through the masses of people over the pavements, dodging them left and right. A dog spots him and starts barking, but he’s gone even before the owner can question the dog about what was wrong.

gamerboy80 stops when he’s on the top of a small residential building, panting as he watches the smoke rise in the distance. “Shit,” he hisses. “Which idiot-“

His headset quivers as a voice speaks into it. “gamerboy80, please return to the premises.”

“Screw you,” he grins, and rips off the headset, before throwing it over the edge like some character from the Matrix. “Oh man.”

He knows he should be concerned about keeping his paycheck for the week, but he couldn’t help but watch with wide eyes as the arena was sheathed in black, the players streaming out in lines and crowds of dots.

He checks his potion effects, smile dropping almost instantly.

“Thirty seconds of invis, and I’m almost out of jump...”

gamerboy80 looks around him, wondering if he can get away with covering the nearest billboard with his name, just as he spots the funniest thing he decides he’ll ever see.

On the nearest building, there’s a tall black figure wildly gesturing something, while the second holds onto the side, legs dangling in the air...

And there’s a billboard. Seems that it’s his lucky day.

He snickers to himself as he takes a look at his inventory. “Sixty wool? That should be enough.”

He launches into the air, praying his jump doesn’t run out as he stacks up, jumping towards the building and block clutching at about the seventh floor. He stops for only a second as a woman walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, and screams just as he mock-salutes and leaps up towards the twelfth.

Damn, he didn’t know he was that famous. 

He’s almost at the top when he hears a voice that he gets the feeling he shouldn’t be hearing. 

“-and you, you absolutely infernal- I’m tempted to kick you down, you know.”

“That would be cheatin’,” a familiar bored voice points out, sounding as tired as gamerboy80 felt. “Didn’t think God endorsed that.”

“What did your Sun Tzu say? Yeah. ‘Thus, what is of supreme importance in war is to attack the enemy's strategy.’”

“I’m not cheatin’, what are you talkin’ about?”

Fifteen seconds of invis. He cracks his knuckles.

Then he suddenly realizes why the man hanging off the edge is so familiar. “What the frick. It’s Technoblade,” he whispers, spray can in hand as he faces the billboard. “Just gimme a second...” but the invisibility potion effects ran out, and Techno suddenly spots the strange man hopping up and down in front of the billboard.

“Oh great, this guy probably likes Weet-Bix,” the pink-haired man grumbles, shaking his head and forgetting about how his crown was an inch too close to his eyes. 

gamerboy80 steps back, grinning at his work. “Awesome.”

“Hey, dude. Can you, like, save me or somethin’?” Techno calls out, just as the man’s head snaps towards the head of pink hair.

“Don’t touch the billboard,” he shouts and as he grabs Techno to jump off the edge, he can swear he heard a voice mutter, “damn you fucking code RED’s.”

  
  


Fundy had been strolling around, humming to himself as he pocketed another man’s wallet. It had been a good day so far.

He walks past the crowds of people, pulling his cap lower onto his face. It wouldn’t do him any good if he was recognized, much less sent to prison. They’d ask him about why he’d burnt down someone’s house, but they would refuse to understand that it wasn’t him! The arson was Tommy’s fault; he’d just wanted to steal a particular pufferfish, that was all. Nothing to it.

Of course, something stupid had to happen the very next second. Not that Fundy was too ruffled. He was too used to this as it was.

He only had a split second to react however, when a voice shouted, “I’m outta jump and speed!” and another yelled, “then why’d you spend fifteen seconds in front of a Weet-Bix billboard?”, and both of these people fell right on top of him.

“Oh my fucking God,” he gets out, the breath completely knocked out of him. “What the fuck?”

“Please let me keep my monetization, whatever that is,” he hears one voice say lowly.

The second only spits onto the pavement, and that’s when Fundy decides he’s being crowded by a bunch of lunatics.

“Where’d you,” huff, “come from?”

The first man gets up and swipes his crown off the ground, as Fundy watches the gold glint in the daylight with more than dishonest intentions. “Heaven,” he drones. “The clouds above, the worlds beyond.”

“I could almost believe you on that,” Fundy whispers, reaching out for the pieces of gold on the ground that had fallen from the second man’s hastily covered inventory. “Holy fuck.”

The man doesn’t notice however, standing up, stepping back and squinting at the billboard. “Coulda sworn I- yeah. That’s awesome.”

Techno steps back and follows gamerboy80’s line of sight, frowning. “It says ‘Gaymoreboy80.’”

“Dammit,” the man swears. “I thought I spelt it right this time.”

“You’re gamerboy80?” Techno questions, a small smile on his face. “You’re the number one Bedwars player of all time. Can’t believe I got carried by this guy.” He says the last sentence to Fundy, who blinks up at the two of them. 

“Yeah, me neither,” the fox responds, still eyeing up the crown like it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. “Can’t believe it.”

The man grins at Techno. “And you’re Technoblade. The man. The myth. The undying.”

“That’s me.”

The two stared at each other.

“Thanks for savin’ me,” Techno finally says, while gamerboy80 says, “Thanks for showing me the billboard.” The two blink.

“What?” they ask each other, confused.

“Well, it’s been great meeting you guys,” Fundy announces, staggering to his feet. “But I gotta go. See ya.”

The fox sprints away faster than a snowflake in a tornado with stolen cash, just as the duo realize something.

“The Hypixel Battlegrounds are on fire,” Techno says.

“Yeah, everyone sees that,” gamerboy80 mutters. 

“No, but let that sink in. It’s on fire. All of it.”

A second. Then-

“My paycheck!”

“My leverage!”

Techno looks around for a car, and sees a red Ford pull up on the side of the road. He looks back at the black-and-white haired man, and the two smirk at each other.

So they kick out the people in the car and drive all the way to the Hypixel Lobby, leaving behind a family of angry furries. The usual, of course.

Then there’s the tale of how they stole all the money in the nearest bank (with the help of Sapnap and Skeppy, who’d just gotten back from Disneyland and had a massive debt to pay off since they faked all their legal documents), but that’s a story for later. 

“I hate you Technoblade!” Skeppy screams, just as the man in question cackles and they drive into the distance.

Good times. They don’t come along too often. 


End file.
